Epidemic Center Aralon - Clark Darlton, ebook, CALIBRE SFF 1970s, Temp 1
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
The lives of the crew of the New Power hang in the balance. Artificially induced illness has
ravaged Perry Rhodan’s allies, and there seems to be no cure–unless his young lieutenant
can accomplish a perilous interstellar mission.
First, Rhodan’s agent, Tifflor, must feign betrayal of the Peacelord of the Universe. And then
he too falls victim to the ruthless schemes of the murderous Medical Masters…
This is the stirring story of–
EPIDEMIC CENTRE: ARALON
1/ AN EXCITING PLAN
A ghastly and uninviting world at best, Mooff 6 was a giant planet orbiting the yellowish sun designated
as Mooff in the Arkonide Star Catalogues, situated in the centre of Star Cluster M-13, about 34,000
light-years from Earth.
When Perry Rhodan first landed on Mooff 6 he was strongly reminded of Jupiter, although Mooff 6
harboured intelligent life, unlike the great gas giant of our own solar system.
And what a strange life form! The Mooffs were wide, flabby and taller than a man, resembling
overgrown jellyfish. Harmless and peaceable, they communicated with each other telepathically. They
simply had not elected to build up any notable form of civilization and were content merely to be left
alone.
So Perry Rhodan gave them their wish—but first he was forced to determine whether they had anything
to do with the terrible plague that had struck down his men. He took 50 Mooffs: aboard his ship and
adapted living quarters for them containing their native methane atmosphere. By this means he hoped to
make use of their mildly hypnotic powers of suggestion in case he needed them to help replace the
afflicted mutants of his special corps—at least for the time being.
Before takeoff from Mooff 6, Rhodan gathered a few of his remaining healthy crewmembers in the
Control Central. Khrest, the tall, white-haired Arkonide scientist, sat down in one of the chairs. Very little
confidence shone in his reddish eyes for he realized what a harsh blow the Peacelord had been dealt;
what an impossible position he had been put in. The situation seemed virtually hopeless.
Although considerably younger than Rhodan, Lt. Tifflor bore a striking resemblance to him. He sat at
present before the nav-computer and waited for his chief’s decision. The Japanese ‘seer’, Wuriu Sengu,
stood nearby, silent and unassuming according to his nature.
Pucky, however, was another matter. As the most highly endowed paranormal sensitive, the
mouse-beaver lay sprawled casually on the couch. Looking like a king-sized Mickey Mouse with a
broad supporting tail, he possessed a soft, rusty pelt and the good-natured limpid brown eyes of a loyal
hound dog. His long ears and tapered snout lent him a comical aspect that camouflaged his true nature
from those who did not know him. Telepath, telekineticist, teleporter, all in one, he was fluent in the
common usage of Intercosmo, Arkonide and English.
Pucky’s voice rang out high-pitched and almost chirpingly in the great Control Centre of the Titan, a
super spaceship almost one mile in diameter. "Looks like we’re ready for liftoff, Rhodan. So—it’s back
to Arkon again?"
"I don’t see any other alternative. We know the Aras are the originators of the hyper-euphoria sickness
afflicting 700 of the crew, including the Mutant Corps and Thora—not to mention Bell. If anybody can
provide a cure, it’s the Aras alone we have to look to. So we’re just going to have to try to find out
about them on Arkon. Nobody else seems to know where the central world of the Ara clans is…"
"The robot brain on Arkon knows," Khrest offered with a positive nod of his head. Suddenly, the
ancient savant showed new interest. "The Brain will help us!"
"In its own interests," Rhodan concurred. "Ever since the great positronic brain took over rulership from
the Arkonides, the Empire has improved. And why? Because the Brain shows initiative. I’m certain that
it’s aware of the danger the Aras represent and that it will help us further. Any more questions?
Otherwise, we’ll take off."
Lt. Tifflor raised his hand like an obedient pupil. "Don’t we have prisoners on board?" he asked. "They
are Aras! Can’t they reveal the position of their home world?"
"No doubt," Rhodan agreed. "But we need confirmation from Arkon, so that we don’t fall into a trap.
Only the robot brain can know if the statements of the prisoners are valid. We have no choice but to beat
a path to Arkon."
"Then what are we waiting for?" shrilled Pucky, but with exceptional gravity. "Let’s lift off. Arkon is only
a cat’s jump away."
"Probably more of a mouse-beaver jump," said Tifflor, alluding to Pucky’s teleporting capability. "Just a
few lideks (light-decades) away, if I’m not mistaken."
"We’ll have to do it with a half-depleted crew," said Rhodan, not without confidence. "Very well,
then—let’s get ready for takeoff. The Ganymede has the same coördinates as we do. We’ll fly together
to Arkon."
Arkon was the centre point of a stellar empire that embraced the entire Star Cluster M-13, more than
200 light-years in diameter. There on the third principal planet was the positronic brain, whose partner
Perry Rhodan had become.
His ship, the
Titan
, had once belonged to the Arkonides. He had actually stolen it but the Brain had
generously relinquished the vessel to him—under one condition: Rhodan must promise to use it only for
the benefit of the Empire.
The fight against the Aras was for the well being of the Empire.
The
Titan
was a spherical ship whose diameter was just under a mile. Its crew complement had been set
by the Arkonide Fleet Command at 1500 men. With an acceleration of 375 miles/sec2, it could reach the
velocity of light in exactly 10 minutes. It could also make a transition into hyperspace. With a single
hyperjump through the 5th dimension, it could leap across tens of thousands of light-years of distance.
The
Ganymede
was Rhodan’s original flagship, in which he had flown from the Earth to Arkon. The
Ganymede
could also conquer interstellar immensities with the help of the hyperspace transition. But in
addition, it had two pieces of special equipment on board which were a secret even to the all-knowing
robot brain on Arkon. The tele-transmitter could dematerialise any object whatsoever and then
rematerialise it anywhere—for example, on board another ship. With this, Rhodan possessed an
unimaginably dangerous weapon. The second acquisition, taken over from the Springers, was the
hyper-compensator. When this was in operation, alien tracking stations could not determine the
directional coördinates of a hypertransition jump. For several weeks now, the Titan had also become
equipped with a special hyper-compensator.
On the viewscreens a primitive landscape was to be seen. Mountain peaks both bare and snow-covered
rose loftily into the hazy sky. Ammoniac seas shimmered in the dim sunlight. No life stirred. After
good-byes had been said, the Mooffs had withdrawn. The severe danger that had threatened them had
been removed. It was not they but the Aras who had to be regarded as the culprits. It was the Aras who
had sought to take over the Arkon Empire, by secret and very insidious means. In the course of that
struggle, 700 of Rhodan’s people had become infected by a disease called hyper-euphoria. Those
afflicted by it felt light-hearted and carefree and sang and danced—but they ceased to eat any food. They
starved without being aware of it. In their blissful and euphoric state, they forgot everything, including the
natural function of nourishment.
In order to keep them alive, Rhodan had been forced to subject the victims to a prolonged deep sleep
and feed them intravenously. But this was only a temporary expedient, since they would soon die unless
an actual cure were discovered and applied. And only the Aras could help, because they had also been
the ones who had invented the infectious substance that caused the illness.
"Liftoff in 10 minutes!" came Perry Rhodan’s final decision. "The coördinates are known, Tiff. Keep in
video contact with Col. Freyt." Freyt was commander of the
Ganymede
.
Pucky slid off the couch and waddled to the door. "I prefer my cabin during a transition hop," he said.
"In here it gets rough!"
Everybody smiled as he exited. Only Khrest remained grave. "Id like to be with you, Perry, when you
talk to the robot brain."
"We’ll all take part in that conversation," Rhodan assured him. "But I have just one request: I don’t want
anybody to mention a word about the 700 sick patients we have on board. I’m only going to report
Thora and a few others as being ill. The Brain thinks logically. If it comes to realize that we’re not fully in
battle readiness, it could deny us any assistance. And, unfortunately, we still need that help."
The clock hands moved onward.
Liftoff…!
The two space giants rose upwards almost weightlessly, thanks to their antigravity fields. The
Ganymede
was a cylindrical vessel 2500 feet in length and about 600 feet in diameter. The repulsion fields began to
operate. The giant world of the Mooffs receded under them into the depths of the void. By the time it had
become a star point of light, both ships had arrived at speol.
Then they simply disappeared from normal space. They flickered slightly, blurred a little—and ceased to
be there. They had been swallowed up into the 5th dimension, where time and space have no meaning.
Somewhere in another place, they materialized again now, in the same second. And with them
materialized everything that had been on board at the point in time of the transition…
* * * *
Arkon lay almost in the centre of the great star cluster.
The two spaceships emerged out of hyperspace within a third of a light-year of the flaming star.
Relatively motionless, they hovered here while preparing themselves for their next venture.
In the sickbay and other emergency hospital stations of the
Titan
, the patients lay in their beds. They
rested in trance-like sleep and knew naught of their surroundings. Meanwhile, the recently arrived
reinforcement crew from the Earth had more or less familiarized themselves with the ship’s equipment
and had taken over the posts of the disabled crewmen. For Rhodan this had been an uncomfortable
rearrangement. He had actually needed weeks in which to properly train the new men, yet he had to
accomplish it in only a few days.
Physicians and scientists concerned themselves with the patients but even though they were keeping the
unfortunate victims alive they had not been able to discover the specific pathogenic agent nor had they
developed any antidote.
Rhodan called Khrest, Tiff, Sengu and Pucky into the Communications Centre where the hypercom
equipment had already been turned on. Nearby in the control room: two medics waited with Thora, who
was in a half-drugged state of sleep. Upon a signal from Rhodan, they were to bring her in to the
Communications room.
The coded transmissions of the Brain flickered on the picture screen. Patterns of colour endlessly
changed form in an incomprehensible jumble. Only a correctly installed deciphering unit would be able to
straighten out the visible abstractions. Synchronously with these optical impressions, unidentifiable sounds
rang forth from the loudspeaker, vaguely similar to electronic music.
Rhodan nodded to his companions and threw in the transmitter key. "
Titan
reporting. Commander Thora
of the House of Zoltral. Second Commander Perry Rhodan. Confirmation of contact is requested."
His words were transmitted instantly from the antenna into hyperspace and without the slightest loss of
time were transferred back into normal space at a distance of a third of a light-year. In the same second
in which Rhodan spoke, he could be heard at a distance of light-months or tens of light-millennia. The
hypercom transceiver equipment on board the
Titan
possessed an almost inconceivable range.
The colourful pattern on the screen congealed into an abstract picture but then altered itself again
immediately. Gradually the familiar Titanic hall emerged into visibility, together with the gleaming metal
dome resting on its sectional floor plates. Here was the robot brain of Arkon, ruler of a stellar empire of
unimaginable dimensions.
A cold, mechanical, strictly impersonal voice came from the loudspeaker: "Your I.D. is recognized.
Closed channel activated. Speak!"
Thus the Brain had provided that no one would overhear their conversation. Rhodan stared at the
armourplated cupola, under which rested the greatest positronic brain in the universe. In relation to that
robotic mind he experienced something akin to sympathy, although that was not quite the expression for
it. At any rate, they had become partners—this almost infallible machine and he.
"The
Titan
is reporting back from its mission. Unfortunately, without success. Of course we prevented
the destruction of the planet Mooff 6 by the Arkonide fighter fleet but we have only approached our main
goal by a single additional step. We know now that the Mooffs bear no guilt in the revolution on Zalit, nor
can they be held responsible for the hyper-euphoria sickness. They have no more to do with it than the
indigenous inhabitants of Honur do. The only ones who are guilty, are the Aras. They are behind
everything that has happened.
"The Aras are a tribal or clan offshoot of the Springers, otherwise known as the Galactic Traders.
However, there are no friendly relationships between them. The Aras are in all practicality the medics and
biologists of the Empire.
"But they are descended from the Traders!" said Rhodan, with a peculiar emphasis. "They support
themselves not alone through their science but also by commerce. This heritage of their race they still
adhere to. Unfortunately, they trade not only in medicines, they are also merchants of death!"
"The proof!"
Rhodan sighed. "We found plenty of proof on Honur and Mooff 6. We learned that the Aras infect
entire planets deliberately and then later supply the necessary antidote at exorbitant prices. Do you
consider such a practice to be fair play, Regent?"
The robot brain required one second in which to formulate an answer. "It is a criminal offence against the
laws of the Empire. But we have need of the Aras; otherwise I would initiate an immediate destruction of
all their worlds."
Rhodan nodded. "I am in accord with you. But there must be a way of forcing them to observe the Law
without depriving ourselves of their medical knowledge. I am urgently in need of a cure for the
hyper-euphoria. Thora of Zoltral has fallen ill."
Rhodan thought he detected a trace of excitement in the impersonal voice but it could just as well have
been an illusion.
"Thora, ill…? Infected by the Aras? Ah yes, I’m aware of that. You reported it to me already. So no
cure has been forthcoming?"
"Only the Aras can furnish it."
"They don’t have any specific home base but they maintain many planetary strongholds."
Rhodan tossed in the bait: "For example, perhaps such a planet as Aralon?"
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zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl upanicza.keep.pl
The lives of the crew of the New Power hang in the balance. Artificially induced illness has
ravaged Perry Rhodan’s allies, and there seems to be no cure–unless his young lieutenant
can accomplish a perilous interstellar mission.
First, Rhodan’s agent, Tifflor, must feign betrayal of the Peacelord of the Universe. And then
he too falls victim to the ruthless schemes of the murderous Medical Masters…
This is the stirring story of–
EPIDEMIC CENTRE: ARALON
1/ AN EXCITING PLAN
A ghastly and uninviting world at best, Mooff 6 was a giant planet orbiting the yellowish sun designated
as Mooff in the Arkonide Star Catalogues, situated in the centre of Star Cluster M-13, about 34,000
light-years from Earth.
When Perry Rhodan first landed on Mooff 6 he was strongly reminded of Jupiter, although Mooff 6
harboured intelligent life, unlike the great gas giant of our own solar system.
And what a strange life form! The Mooffs were wide, flabby and taller than a man, resembling
overgrown jellyfish. Harmless and peaceable, they communicated with each other telepathically. They
simply had not elected to build up any notable form of civilization and were content merely to be left
alone.
So Perry Rhodan gave them their wish—but first he was forced to determine whether they had anything
to do with the terrible plague that had struck down his men. He took 50 Mooffs: aboard his ship and
adapted living quarters for them containing their native methane atmosphere. By this means he hoped to
make use of their mildly hypnotic powers of suggestion in case he needed them to help replace the
afflicted mutants of his special corps—at least for the time being.
Before takeoff from Mooff 6, Rhodan gathered a few of his remaining healthy crewmembers in the
Control Central. Khrest, the tall, white-haired Arkonide scientist, sat down in one of the chairs. Very little
confidence shone in his reddish eyes for he realized what a harsh blow the Peacelord had been dealt;
what an impossible position he had been put in. The situation seemed virtually hopeless.
Although considerably younger than Rhodan, Lt. Tifflor bore a striking resemblance to him. He sat at
present before the nav-computer and waited for his chief’s decision. The Japanese ‘seer’, Wuriu Sengu,
stood nearby, silent and unassuming according to his nature.
Pucky, however, was another matter. As the most highly endowed paranormal sensitive, the
mouse-beaver lay sprawled casually on the couch. Looking like a king-sized Mickey Mouse with a
broad supporting tail, he possessed a soft, rusty pelt and the good-natured limpid brown eyes of a loyal
hound dog. His long ears and tapered snout lent him a comical aspect that camouflaged his true nature
from those who did not know him. Telepath, telekineticist, teleporter, all in one, he was fluent in the
common usage of Intercosmo, Arkonide and English.
Pucky’s voice rang out high-pitched and almost chirpingly in the great Control Centre of the Titan, a
super spaceship almost one mile in diameter. "Looks like we’re ready for liftoff, Rhodan. So—it’s back
to Arkon again?"
"I don’t see any other alternative. We know the Aras are the originators of the hyper-euphoria sickness
afflicting 700 of the crew, including the Mutant Corps and Thora—not to mention Bell. If anybody can
provide a cure, it’s the Aras alone we have to look to. So we’re just going to have to try to find out
about them on Arkon. Nobody else seems to know where the central world of the Ara clans is…"
"The robot brain on Arkon knows," Khrest offered with a positive nod of his head. Suddenly, the
ancient savant showed new interest. "The Brain will help us!"
"In its own interests," Rhodan concurred. "Ever since the great positronic brain took over rulership from
the Arkonides, the Empire has improved. And why? Because the Brain shows initiative. I’m certain that
it’s aware of the danger the Aras represent and that it will help us further. Any more questions?
Otherwise, we’ll take off."
Lt. Tifflor raised his hand like an obedient pupil. "Don’t we have prisoners on board?" he asked. "They
are Aras! Can’t they reveal the position of their home world?"
"No doubt," Rhodan agreed. "But we need confirmation from Arkon, so that we don’t fall into a trap.
Only the robot brain can know if the statements of the prisoners are valid. We have no choice but to beat
a path to Arkon."
"Then what are we waiting for?" shrilled Pucky, but with exceptional gravity. "Let’s lift off. Arkon is only
a cat’s jump away."
"Probably more of a mouse-beaver jump," said Tifflor, alluding to Pucky’s teleporting capability. "Just a
few lideks (light-decades) away, if I’m not mistaken."
"We’ll have to do it with a half-depleted crew," said Rhodan, not without confidence. "Very well,
then—let’s get ready for takeoff. The Ganymede has the same coördinates as we do. We’ll fly together
to Arkon."
Arkon was the centre point of a stellar empire that embraced the entire Star Cluster M-13, more than
200 light-years in diameter. There on the third principal planet was the positronic brain, whose partner
Perry Rhodan had become.
His ship, the
Titan
, had once belonged to the Arkonides. He had actually stolen it but the Brain had
generously relinquished the vessel to him—under one condition: Rhodan must promise to use it only for
the benefit of the Empire.
The fight against the Aras was for the well being of the Empire.
The
Titan
was a spherical ship whose diameter was just under a mile. Its crew complement had been set
by the Arkonide Fleet Command at 1500 men. With an acceleration of 375 miles/sec2, it could reach the
velocity of light in exactly 10 minutes. It could also make a transition into hyperspace. With a single
hyperjump through the 5th dimension, it could leap across tens of thousands of light-years of distance.
The
Ganymede
was Rhodan’s original flagship, in which he had flown from the Earth to Arkon. The
Ganymede
could also conquer interstellar immensities with the help of the hyperspace transition. But in
addition, it had two pieces of special equipment on board which were a secret even to the all-knowing
robot brain on Arkon. The tele-transmitter could dematerialise any object whatsoever and then
rematerialise it anywhere—for example, on board another ship. With this, Rhodan possessed an
unimaginably dangerous weapon. The second acquisition, taken over from the Springers, was the
hyper-compensator. When this was in operation, alien tracking stations could not determine the
directional coördinates of a hypertransition jump. For several weeks now, the Titan had also become
equipped with a special hyper-compensator.
On the viewscreens a primitive landscape was to be seen. Mountain peaks both bare and snow-covered
rose loftily into the hazy sky. Ammoniac seas shimmered in the dim sunlight. No life stirred. After
good-byes had been said, the Mooffs had withdrawn. The severe danger that had threatened them had
been removed. It was not they but the Aras who had to be regarded as the culprits. It was the Aras who
had sought to take over the Arkon Empire, by secret and very insidious means. In the course of that
struggle, 700 of Rhodan’s people had become infected by a disease called hyper-euphoria. Those
afflicted by it felt light-hearted and carefree and sang and danced—but they ceased to eat any food. They
starved without being aware of it. In their blissful and euphoric state, they forgot everything, including the
natural function of nourishment.
In order to keep them alive, Rhodan had been forced to subject the victims to a prolonged deep sleep
and feed them intravenously. But this was only a temporary expedient, since they would soon die unless
an actual cure were discovered and applied. And only the Aras could help, because they had also been
the ones who had invented the infectious substance that caused the illness.
"Liftoff in 10 minutes!" came Perry Rhodan’s final decision. "The coördinates are known, Tiff. Keep in
video contact with Col. Freyt." Freyt was commander of the
Ganymede
.
Pucky slid off the couch and waddled to the door. "I prefer my cabin during a transition hop," he said.
"In here it gets rough!"
Everybody smiled as he exited. Only Khrest remained grave. "Id like to be with you, Perry, when you
talk to the robot brain."
"We’ll all take part in that conversation," Rhodan assured him. "But I have just one request: I don’t want
anybody to mention a word about the 700 sick patients we have on board. I’m only going to report
Thora and a few others as being ill. The Brain thinks logically. If it comes to realize that we’re not fully in
battle readiness, it could deny us any assistance. And, unfortunately, we still need that help."
The clock hands moved onward.
Liftoff…!
The two space giants rose upwards almost weightlessly, thanks to their antigravity fields. The
Ganymede
was a cylindrical vessel 2500 feet in length and about 600 feet in diameter. The repulsion fields began to
operate. The giant world of the Mooffs receded under them into the depths of the void. By the time it had
become a star point of light, both ships had arrived at speol.
Then they simply disappeared from normal space. They flickered slightly, blurred a little—and ceased to
be there. They had been swallowed up into the 5th dimension, where time and space have no meaning.
Somewhere in another place, they materialized again now, in the same second. And with them
materialized everything that had been on board at the point in time of the transition…
* * * *
Arkon lay almost in the centre of the great star cluster.
The two spaceships emerged out of hyperspace within a third of a light-year of the flaming star.
Relatively motionless, they hovered here while preparing themselves for their next venture.
In the sickbay and other emergency hospital stations of the
Titan
, the patients lay in their beds. They
rested in trance-like sleep and knew naught of their surroundings. Meanwhile, the recently arrived
reinforcement crew from the Earth had more or less familiarized themselves with the ship’s equipment
and had taken over the posts of the disabled crewmen. For Rhodan this had been an uncomfortable
rearrangement. He had actually needed weeks in which to properly train the new men, yet he had to
accomplish it in only a few days.
Physicians and scientists concerned themselves with the patients but even though they were keeping the
unfortunate victims alive they had not been able to discover the specific pathogenic agent nor had they
developed any antidote.
Rhodan called Khrest, Tiff, Sengu and Pucky into the Communications Centre where the hypercom
equipment had already been turned on. Nearby in the control room: two medics waited with Thora, who
was in a half-drugged state of sleep. Upon a signal from Rhodan, they were to bring her in to the
Communications room.
The coded transmissions of the Brain flickered on the picture screen. Patterns of colour endlessly
changed form in an incomprehensible jumble. Only a correctly installed deciphering unit would be able to
straighten out the visible abstractions. Synchronously with these optical impressions, unidentifiable sounds
rang forth from the loudspeaker, vaguely similar to electronic music.
Rhodan nodded to his companions and threw in the transmitter key. "
Titan
reporting. Commander Thora
of the House of Zoltral. Second Commander Perry Rhodan. Confirmation of contact is requested."
His words were transmitted instantly from the antenna into hyperspace and without the slightest loss of
time were transferred back into normal space at a distance of a third of a light-year. In the same second
in which Rhodan spoke, he could be heard at a distance of light-months or tens of light-millennia. The
hypercom transceiver equipment on board the
Titan
possessed an almost inconceivable range.
The colourful pattern on the screen congealed into an abstract picture but then altered itself again
immediately. Gradually the familiar Titanic hall emerged into visibility, together with the gleaming metal
dome resting on its sectional floor plates. Here was the robot brain of Arkon, ruler of a stellar empire of
unimaginable dimensions.
A cold, mechanical, strictly impersonal voice came from the loudspeaker: "Your I.D. is recognized.
Closed channel activated. Speak!"
Thus the Brain had provided that no one would overhear their conversation. Rhodan stared at the
armourplated cupola, under which rested the greatest positronic brain in the universe. In relation to that
robotic mind he experienced something akin to sympathy, although that was not quite the expression for
it. At any rate, they had become partners—this almost infallible machine and he.
"The
Titan
is reporting back from its mission. Unfortunately, without success. Of course we prevented
the destruction of the planet Mooff 6 by the Arkonide fighter fleet but we have only approached our main
goal by a single additional step. We know now that the Mooffs bear no guilt in the revolution on Zalit, nor
can they be held responsible for the hyper-euphoria sickness. They have no more to do with it than the
indigenous inhabitants of Honur do. The only ones who are guilty, are the Aras. They are behind
everything that has happened.
"The Aras are a tribal or clan offshoot of the Springers, otherwise known as the Galactic Traders.
However, there are no friendly relationships between them. The Aras are in all practicality the medics and
biologists of the Empire.
"But they are descended from the Traders!" said Rhodan, with a peculiar emphasis. "They support
themselves not alone through their science but also by commerce. This heritage of their race they still
adhere to. Unfortunately, they trade not only in medicines, they are also merchants of death!"
"The proof!"
Rhodan sighed. "We found plenty of proof on Honur and Mooff 6. We learned that the Aras infect
entire planets deliberately and then later supply the necessary antidote at exorbitant prices. Do you
consider such a practice to be fair play, Regent?"
The robot brain required one second in which to formulate an answer. "It is a criminal offence against the
laws of the Empire. But we have need of the Aras; otherwise I would initiate an immediate destruction of
all their worlds."
Rhodan nodded. "I am in accord with you. But there must be a way of forcing them to observe the Law
without depriving ourselves of their medical knowledge. I am urgently in need of a cure for the
hyper-euphoria. Thora of Zoltral has fallen ill."
Rhodan thought he detected a trace of excitement in the impersonal voice but it could just as well have
been an illusion.
"Thora, ill…? Infected by the Aras? Ah yes, I’m aware of that. You reported it to me already. So no
cure has been forthcoming?"
"Only the Aras can furnish it."
"They don’t have any specific home base but they maintain many planetary strongholds."
Rhodan tossed in the bait: "For example, perhaps such a planet as Aralon?"
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